


Happy St. Patrick's Day - My First Drunk - Mal Reynolds

by Malcolm Reynolds (FanficbyLee)



Category: Firefly, Serenity
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-17
Updated: 2006-03-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 02:28:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficbyLee/pseuds/Malcolm%20Reynolds





	Happy St. Patrick's Day - My First Drunk - Mal Reynolds

Malcolm Reynolds  
Serenity/Firefly  
Word Count: 941  
Rating: Not Quite Work Safe  
Comments - to [](http://cptmalreynolds.livejournal.com/profile)[**cptmalreynolds**](http://cptmalreynolds.livejournal.com/) or here if you like

  
The dust was clinging to everything, making the entire ranch look like it was an old Earth style sepia photograph. The storm had coated the buildings, the pastures and even the cattle dull beige. Mal leaned against the neck of his horse, picking a burr out of her thick dark sable mane as his mother’s ranch hands drove the herd towards the far pasture where the sweepers had managed to clear enough of the dust away for the animals to graze, and had laid down piles of sweet hay for them as well.

“Looks like we’ll get done just in time young Malcolm,” Hank the foreman said as he pulled a long drink from the metal flask he kept tucked into his coat pocket at all times. Mal could smell the whiskey like perfume on the warm breeze as the man drank it down licking the last few drops from his lips.

“Just in time for what?” Mal cocked his head to the side, his hair hanging down to his collar as he tried to remember if something important was going on at the ranch or in town that night. “Oh Saint Patrick’s Day. I forgot.” He hadn’t really forgotten. He was just too young to enjoy the festivities that the ranch hands got into.

“Now, why such a sad face, Malcolm Reynolds? You’re goin’ with us this year.”

“I can’t,” he said glancing towards the sprawling ranch house that he shared with his mother. “She won’t let me.”

“Well, then we don’t tell her. You’re old enough to sneak out of the house, and meet us in town. Just go to bed early. The boys n’ I’ll have your horse ready for the ride into town.”

“You really mean it Hank?” Mal’s face broke into a dazzling smile. He was thirteen now, and as tall as any of the hands on the ranch. It pissed him off all the time that his mother wouldn’t let him go carousing with them, saying that he had better things to do with his mind, body and time. But here on Shadow, he had yet to figure out what those better things were. “I’ll be there. Down by the south well.” He hitched his heels into his horse’s sides as a calf broke from the herd, and chased it down herding it back where it belonged.

The night was quiet, only the gentle chirruping of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl as Mal slipped through the shadows away from his bedroom window. He was dressed in his Sunday best shirt over a pair of jeans so new that they made funny noises when he walked. They hadn’t even been washed yet, which meant they would be leaving blue stains on his legs. That was fine with Mal, since it’d be easier to prove that he’d gotten hurt working the ranch and had to go to bed early when it looked like he was bruised. Hank and Stan were waiting for him with Heather saddled for him. He pulled up onto the horse’s back, and they headed for town as quickly as they could.

Town was louder than Mal had ever seen it. The population jumping at the tradition of the Earth that Was holiday as an excuse to get drunk as skunks, whatever skunks were, and to act like general idiots. Malcolm walked into the first bar with Hank and Stan; his thumbs hooked into his belt loops like theirs were, and sauntered over to the bar with them to order a beer. Stan was whispering in the ear of one of the girls that worked the rooms upstairs, and slid her a few credits and tilted his chin towards where Mal was sipping at the beer. It wasn’t his first, but it was his first in a glass. So he wanted to remember it as something special like. “Malcolm,” Stan said looping his arm over the young teenager’s shoulders. “This is Nelly Sue. She’s goin’ to be keepin’ you company tonight.”

“She is?” Mal smiled at the girl. She was a few years older than he was with bright red hair, and had dark grey eyes. “Nice to meet you.” He blushed a bit since she wasn’t wearing nearly as many clothes as the girls he was used to meeting in town at the general store or church. “I’m Mal.”

“I know,” she said taking his beer from him and draining it dry. “Let’s get you something a bit stronger. Whiskey for my new boyfriend.” Mal liked the sound of that, and tossed back the whiskey when the bartender slid the shot to him. The fire of the booze joining with the fire that was growing elsewhere as her fingers traveled over his legs. He wasn’t sure how many shots he’d drunk on his now empty stomach while Nelly Sue led him by the hand upstairs to her room, and he really didn’t care.

She stripped him naked in less time than it took the best hands on the ranch to brand a squirming calf, and the next thing he knew she was straddling him on her bed. Panic came to him in a rush as the blood left his brain to other parts of his body. This wasn’t how he planned doing this at all. “Wait,” he said breathlessly as her lips went down his stomach, her breath on his thighs. “I ain’t… I mean… there this girl…and I…”

“Don’t have to tell her a thing,” Nelly Sue’s tongue licked beneath him making him gasp. “Now shut up, Malcolm Reynolds, and let me do what I was paid to do.” 


End file.
